


Knight Radiant, Hero Rising

by sprx77



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Am I using the least known Order of Radiants?, Author would rather die than stick to one tense, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Basically, Boy has superpowers, But god I want to give it to him, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Empath Midoriya Izuku, F/F, It's not technically a quirk but for tagging purposes, Knight Radiant Midoriya Izuku, M/M, Magical Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Has a Healing Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Multi, No knowledge of Stormlight necessary, Since Radiants can heal all wounds instantly, Spren (Stormlight Archive), Spren are spirits drawn to emotions and elements, Stoneward Midoriya Izuku, Telepathic Bond, gratuitous cursing, yes yes I am
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprx77/pseuds/sprx77
Summary: Izuku sees spren.It's not a quirk.(Or, in which Izuku doesn't get One for All but does: make a friend, become a hero anyway, resurrect a long dead Order or ten, and find the most important words a man can say.More or less in that order.)
Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might
Comments: 88
Kudos: 291





	1. when the earth is trembling on some new beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izuku is met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FORMERLY: MIDORIYA IZUKU: KNIGHT RADIANT, HERO
> 
> NO knowledge of the Stormlight Archive is necessary to read this, I think. Deku certainly has no understanding of the stormlight archive and is figuring it out as he goes along. 
> 
> What you do need to know, and hopefully it's explained well by the narrative: Spren are like lil, semi tangible fairies that pop up. Someone's angry? Angerspren appears briefly. Laughs? Laughterspren. Izuku is also trying to figure out what they are. 
> 
> That said, if you do have knowledge of the Cosmere verse, you know Sanderson has not touched the Stormwards beyond what their surges are and who their herald is, so I'm Making This Shit Up, as is my right as a fanfic author. I'd love to see your debate about cohesion and tension and your Hot Takes in the comments, BUT pls don't criticize my use of them or argue with me about my Hot Take when I get to that part. Even if I don't think that's 100% how it would work on Roshar, that's how it's gonna work in this crossover, possibly for Plot reasons as well.
> 
> Also, full disclaimer: I was on the Wiki faithfully for like 10+ hours at this point and I tried to stick to the spren descriptions BUT on those occasions when I found they didn't have a spren for me I was like 'well this isn't even the same world, so.' and made up my own. 
> 
> Izuku's spren, Rune, does not fit the WoB we've been given about what the Stoneward spren will look like but that's okay. Don't @ me. (Unless you wanna chat about it without crit-- even concrit-- in which case, @ me).
> 
> I actually have almost 10k of this mostly written and will be adding more/editing as I go so I'm really comfortable posting at least the first chapter and giving myself room to update.

> _"Spren are those ideas - the ideas of collective human experience - somehow come alive."_
> 
> _\-- Jasnah Kholin_  
  
---  
  
Izuku sees spren.

Seeing spren is not his quirk. He knows because his mother can see spren, but her quirk is summoning small objects. He knows because at the age of five he’s diagnosed—diagnosed, like it’s an illness!—quirkless.

He has a joint in his toe that means he’ll never breathe fire or move things with his mind or make explosions with his hands, but Izuku can see spren, so he holds onto that with both hands and all his teeth.

Spren are _everywhere_ , and they’re amazing. He’s eventually almost happy that this isn’t his quirk, because it means that spren _exist_ , all the time, regardless of whether or not people see them. His quirk doesn’t create them, nor does his quirk use them as a metaphor to interpret the world.

His mother had seen them all her life. Inko, however, never felt the need to _understand_ them, not really. She knew and named some of them, and pointed them out to a much younger, wide-eyed Izuku.

Izuku was not content.

He needed to know more.

He needed to know _everything_.

He filled up notebooks upon notebooks with sketches of spren, art skills expanding out from under him. His skills started out with the shaky crayon art of a child and grew with him, switching to pencil and pen and then color, tentative at first but necessary for the full breadth of the experience.

The spren looked so lifeless on paper so he got better and better, determined to due them justice. At first, he wanted to show them to Kacchan, feeling _bad_ that the other boy couldn’t see the world for all it was. Poor Kacchan! It was like being colorblind, or fundamentally missing one of his senses.

He didn’t dwell on that conclusion, and already knew better than to ever speak it out loud, and therefore most of his motivation was genuinely just to share something cool—something special—with his best friend.

Izuku becomes very familiar with angerspren.

He draws spren. He loves seeing new ones. As he grows, Izuku finds in himself a love of new places. It becomes a treat to do something new, or go somewhere new, because it’s possible he finds new spren there. Certain kinds of spren are only available in certain places.

When Izuku is six years old, he walks home from school with Kacchan. Kacchan’s friends don’t live near them, so the adventures that Izuku has slowly become less a part of only happen directly after school. The walk home is for the two of them.

When they were younger, they held hands. Now, two years after Izuku’s quirk never came and one year into his _diagnosis_ , he’s found himself several steps behind Kacchan. They still talk; their friendship is not that splintered.

It’s just that now the talking is mostly chastising Izuku, if not yet outright making fun of him.

On this day, however, there is a villain attack. More importantly—

“Heroes!” Kacchan yells, high and excited, and grabs Izuku’s hand without thinking. Izuku stares at it, for a moment unhearing, and something trembles in his chest that Kacchan will still pull Izuku _with him_ into excitement instead of running off without sparing a thought in his direction.

A smile yanks across his face and he’s pulled, bodily, to the edge of a crowd, and his feet can’t keep up but Kacchan holds his hand and there’s _heroes_.

Real heroes, not just on TV.

Kacchan shoves his way through tall legs and Izuku follows, less pulled now than stumbling after. They get near the front of the crowd—or at least, close enough to the front that they can _see_.

Kacchan drops his hand to throw both fists up, cheering in excitement, pumping the air with aplomb, and Izuku has just a moment of regret before he turns his head and catches sight of what will change his life forever.

He has always wanted to be a hero. Absently, except for how it’s with the _whole_ of himself; something that’s been a part of him for _literally_ longer than he can remember. There’s a video of All Might saving hundreds from a burning building that has 10 billion views, and Izuku alone was probably fifty thousand of them.

All Might had no spren around him.

In fact, no videos have spren in them, and Izuku’s only just now realizing. In the blazing colors of life, unmuted by a camera lens, people live and _breathe_ and move. The difference is staggering.

He can’t look away.

He hadn’t realized how dull and lifeless videos were, until now. How fake everything seemed, laugther without laughterspren, happiness without joyspren, sadness without gloomspren.

Now ribbons of golden light played about the heroes heads, snowflakes of passionspren bursting into existence and fluttering down as they countered the villains at every turn. Purple fearspren bubbled up like tar near the thwarted villains, dancing like shaken jello.

Awespren formed through the crowd, drops of blue water that spiraled out and disseminated, cloudlike, into ripples.

One of the last uncaptured villains got incredibly angry at the capture of his fellows, the inevitable defeat. It didn’t show on his masked face, nor in his motions, but red angerspren boiled in pools of frustration at his feet.

Izuku opened his mouth to shout, a tiny drop of fear coalescing near his ankle. It vanished soundly as, just as the villain launched his attack—at the crowd, not the heroes—one of the heroes smoothly intercepted it.

It was like time slowed down for Izuku. He saw the armored back, black and red; saw the shield form in the air in front of the hero like a crimson wall of glass.

The villain’s attack splashed harmlessly of the force field.

“Y’all okay?” Asked the hero, a reassuring smile in his voice. The crowd roared, Kacchan a rictus of joy next to him, but Izuku could only stare.

At the little spren that formed in the air between them, glowing gemstones of red and orange, pink and brown.

He’d never seen them before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahahahahaha I spent literally so many hours trying to come up with a title for this before I gave up. I reserve the right to change the title when I find the elusive Perfect Words so, in that case, Do Not Be Alarmed if the title changes.
> 
> That said I really want to post at least the first few chapters because I thrive off of validation. Precious few of my discord buddies have read the way of kings, so I basically gave the drunk history explanation a few minutes ago.
> 
> I'm god of this little fanfic world, and what kind of god remains to be seen. As Kaladin would say: Honor's dead but I'll try my best.
> 
> I'm big allergic to longfic but I wrote 10k for this fic in 30 hours so hopefully that trend continues.


	2. those hands pulled me from the earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izuku meets All Might.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really shocked to get such a response from chapter one, especially since it was so short. I was telling myself not to post this next one so soon, so that I would have more wiggle room, but ch1 really was super short. Have this! I've got uhh the first 13k written now so if that pace holds up I'll be posting regularly.
> 
> Very shocking, I know.
> 
> Here's a good list of spren! I use some made up ones, as well, but in case Izuku's visual isn't #properly scientific 
> 
> https://coppermind.net/wiki/Spren

> _"Spren are wild in their variety. Some are as clever as humans and create cities. Others are like fish and simply swim in the currents."_
> 
> _\--Jasnah Kholin_

At fourteen years old, Izuku was walking home. He had never given up on finding new spren. By traveling all over, and getting into places he probably shouldn’t, Izuku had seen many spren not even his mother recognized.

Sometimes she came with him.

Not often, because she was a valued paralegal assistant, intuitive without an empathy quirk—truly, able to see guiltspren and angerspren, knew when to press and what questions to ask, what was working and what wasn’t—and not able to leave the office very often.

She would be at work now, while Izuku was on his way home.

It was fine. These days, he wasn’t really alone.

Rune buzzed around him, half tangible. A little ruby gemstone that he had seen, over and over at hero and villain encounters, just as curious about _him_ until one day he followed Izuku.

He had since developed more personality, a fist-sized red glinting light that eventually coalesced, sometimes, into a little person. He reacted to what Izuku said. He flew around in excitement, or annoyance, or disappointment.

He rested on Izuku’s shoulder, sometimes.

And, recently—the secret that Izuku did not even share with his mother-- he had begun to _talk_.

Now Izuku was so focused on his conversation with the spren that he barely noticed the red streamers, flowing as if with excitement in an invisible wind.

 _Anticipationspren_ , but what--?

“Izuku!” Rune shouted, becoming at once a comet-tail of ruby light.

The anticipationspren faded. Laughterspren spawned a half second before dark laughter echoed around the tunnel he’d walked through on the route home. Fearspren licked in purple globules at his heels, barely forming before a harsh clang erupted.

The last thing Izuku saw was a streak of ruby, frantic, and a handful of blue leaves—joyspren—and then dark slime obscured everything.

“A pint-sized hidey-hole!” The villain, for it had to be a villain, said. His voice came from all around. It was dizzying, gross—wet.

The slime got in his hair and his clothes and every available inch of skin, curling around his face to suffocate him.

“Nnggl--!” He tried to cry out but didn’t have the air, shut his mouth hurriedly against the invading tar.

The slime pulled back, ready to flow forward even further over his mouth and nose, and Izuku took that opportunity to gasp in one great lungful of air. He could feel it rush through him, like liquid adrenaline. His body was reacting to the situation with panic and energy.

He had to _think_.

He could almost feel Rune’s fear, helpless to help him, and tried reaching out with one of his arms; he had no hope of clawing off the liquid substance, and his hopes were dashed when moving his limb felt like trying to move through molasses.

 _I didn’t get to be a hero_ , some part of his brain is cycling, over and over. The rest hasn’t given up, is determined to find a solution to this, but part of him is already furious and heartbroken over the end of his story.

He thinks, wildly, of sprinting for the end of the tunnel. The Sakawa river carved a path two blocks away, if he could make it that far—no, the clang earlier, the location of the anticipationspren! Stormdrains ran under the city, big enough to walk through. Had it rained recently?

If he stumbled over, much closer than the ocean or the river, would he hit water and hopefully dislodge this villain, or would he just break something and possibly die with nothing to catch his fall?

He had to do _something_ , he couldn’t just die here—life was more important—

Izuku felt on the cusp of something, utterly unwilling to die. He felt like he was about to make a bad decision or a great one.

He never got the chance.

As he was frantically trying to save himself, a great gust of wind appeared. His vision cleared in time to see even Rune knocked back, a firefly glow lingering in the air.

The villain, no longer heckling him—a dark voice in his ears, all around, coaxing _let me in, don’t resist, come on now_ —vanished, falling like rain. He took in steady breaths of air, at first so surprised that he could.

The villain looked like fearspren on the ground, as the mass of him—punched into precipitation—rained down from the ceiling and walls of the tunnel.

In front of Izuku, larger than life, was a hero.

Izuku had come to his knees, at some point, though whether during the struggle or after was impossible to tell. Now he looked up at the man, trying to make sense of what his brain was telling him.

No, the gold wasn’t part of the costume. He blinked and realized it was hair, stunningly familiar. He wasn’t wearing a costume, because if he was then Izuku would have recognized him instantly.

All Might.

Somehow, amazingly, _All Might_.

It felt perfect. As the fear and alarm drained out of him, Izuku realized, here in the bubble of this magical moment, now was the perfect time to ask.

“All Might,” He said, somewhat surprised to find his voice unhampered by his experience. None of the slime monster had gotten into his mouth, thank _god_.

“Don’t worry, young man! You’re safe now. I am here.” The iconic line knocked Izuku back, speechless with a thousand emotions. “I will collect this villain and be on my way!”

“How?” He blurted. All Might’s hero costume was notorious for not having any support gear. Then Izuku noticed the shopping bags the hero was carrying.

Something clicked into place. A stumbling rash of deductions, quick on the heels of the last, until he blurted:

“You live in Musutafu now?”

He’d wondered, with more incredulity than not, what All Might had been doing here. Now it was obvious. He wasn’t wearing his star-spangled costume because he’d been shopping when the villain incident took place.

“What? Young man, I assure you—where I stay is—that is to say…” The man spluttered out denial. A black figure appeared beside his head, glinting rainbow colors in the light. It shifted with a murmur between different shapes.

 _Liespren_.

“Why do you guess that?” He asked, instead. Izuku tried to focus on the task at hand; the villain was twitching, starting to move together. He had to be quick.

“I need to ask you something.” Izuku rushed out. His heart was beating so fast. Red ribbons flew at his feet.

He felt nauseous, afraid, unprepared.

“My boy, we don’t really have the time for—”

“ _What do heroes feel?”_

Silence cut through the tunnel like a sharp wind.

All Might, hand raised as if to placate him, lowered his arm. His shoulders relaxed a little. Or maybe he slumped.

“What does a hero feel?” He echoed. Suprisespren curled in little green curls away from his head, the quick-fleeting cousin of awespren and shockspren. Neither fearful nor bright, they disappeared as soon as they appeared. A punctuation.

Izuku was not made for hesitation. He barreled through.

“I’ve looked online. I’ve searched the forums. I’ve watched every video I can think of. But when heroes save people from villains, when you fight, there’s something—that—you _feel_. It's not awe or passion. Not glory, though that’s there too. It’s something that, that…”

All Might opens his mouth to answer, the moment stretching like taffy—if taffy weighed one thousand pounds, heavy and meaningful—between them.

Then a particularly viscous glob of villain wiggled, frantic and almost comical, towards the light at the end of the tunnel. Their eyes both snapped to it, Izuku taking a reflexive step backwards from the slime that had tried to kill him, and his spirits fell as if from a great height.

“Excuse me, young man.” The hero said, all business, no stutter present. “I must secure this villain before he escapes.”

“Yeah.” Izuku said, mouth dry. Some part of him remained in awe over how he was talking to his hero so casually. “Yeah, of course. I’ll help.”

“Young man—”

“Midoriya Izuku.” Izuku snapped, then breathed in deeply. Shamespren fell like white petals as he stood straighter, brushing his hands off on his pants. He felt shaky and gross. He’d be taking a _very_ hot and very long shower when he got home.

“I’ll help,” He repeated. “There’s too much of him and you’re—you. You’re very busy.”

All Might was silent and watchful, his epic presence no quieter for it, as they dumped out the litre bottles and began the long, messy work of scooping slime into them.

Izuku hesitated to touch the first piece, steeled himself, and felt almost sorry for the villain that even now was semi aware, though obviously not capable of speech—a fact that Izuku was thankful for. It tried to escape as he reached for a piece.

“Oh.” Izuku realized, when his fingers reconfirmed that the tar was basically the texture of jello. “Hang on.”

He fished into his bookbag and gathered two sheets of paper, ripping them out of his maths notebook. His hero journal was much too sacred for this. He folded the sheets into a rough scoop, a kind of funnel he could use to grab multiple globs of goop.

“An excellent thought, young Midoriya!” _All Might_ boomed, and. It wasn’t like Izuku had _forgotten_ him, per se—but he was rather singleminded in pursuit of a goal.

He brushed the back of his head sheepishly.

“Here,” He said before the hero could ask, and passed it over. He fashioned himself a second scoop just as swiftly. Together it was the work of minutes to imprison most of the villain.

Part of Izuku got stuck on the fact that they would, inevitably, leave some of his _body_ behind, and imagined the villain trying to transform back into human form and missing skin or organs. He shook himself.

That was stupid, of course. Even supposing that the villain _had_ a more human form, it was clear that the amount of sludge was smaller or larger than a human form at will. He had _biomass_ and could likely recover it from eating or expend it at will, otherwise loosing bits of himself would be painful or dangerous and it _clearly_ wasn’t. Izuku himself had clawed great handfuls off the main body and it hadn’t even reacted.

“An excellent leap of logic.” All Might praised, and Izuku startled _again_. He handed over the full bottle when prompted and tried not to stare. “Very well-reasoned.”

The main seemed to hesitate.

He steeled himself. Izuku felt a little numb, like he couldn’t process much more. It had been such an eventful series of minutes—how long had it been, truly? He couldn’t figure it out.

Surely hours had passed.

But the angle of the sun hadn’t changed within the tunnel.

Likely it had been ten minutes, at most.

The mind boggled.

“Thank you for your help, young man. I will deposit this villain off at the police station and be out of your hair!”

He put the villain in with the rest of his groceries, picked up the plastic bag, and stepped into the light.

Izuku’s mind abruptly started working again, at approximately ten times the speed.

_Oh-no-last-chance, waitwaitwait—_

“Wait!” He yelled, already full of regret that he pushed aside in favor of action. He knew it was stupid, knew he shouldn’t—he was being _incredibly_ selfish—

Izuku sucked in air and sprinted, much faster than he expected to be for those first few steps. Surprise rocked him, but he caught up to All Might before the man performed one giant heroic leap. The heroes face morphed into surprise, yellow shockspren forming triangles in the air around him.

Izuku realized why a moment too late.

He’d thrown out a hand to stop All Might, plaintively, desperately, but he underestimated his speed and the heroes surprise, somehow crashing into him at the _exact_ moment of leaping.

Izuku ended up clinging to the heroes leg on pure instinct, stunned to find they were in the _sky_.

Flying.

It felt like falling. Something familiar tugged at his brain, something he felt he should know—oddly enough—but the sensation faded. He expected to see fearspren, wiggling and violet, but only shockspren danced away from him, mingling with All Might’s.

Groundspren sprung up immediately, begging them to fall to earth, announcing the decent of their arc. Shamespren were the closest thing to regret he’d seen and now they fluttered away from him, white-red-white-red petalled flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Light!


	3. imperceptible sounds of which the silence was made up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izuku meets Yagi Toshinori, though he doesn't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the title, so have chapter 3.
> 
> Me: I want to wait a week between chapters so when I run out of material and haven't typed more yet, I still have stuff to post on schedule
> 
> Me to me: Publish 3 chapters in 36 hours, it'll be Fine

>   
>  "Spren appear when something changes - when fear appears or when it begins to rain. They are the heart of change, and therefore the heart of all things."
> 
> -–[Hesina](https://stormlightarchive.fandom.com/wiki/Hesina) to Kaladin[[23]](https://stormlightarchive.fandom.com/wiki/Spren#cite_note-Rtwokc37-22)

They landed on a rooftop building.

“ _Young man!_ ” All Might said, a tiny bubble of anger springing up at his feet. It faded immediately.

Izuku didn’t know what he’d do if pools of angry blood formed around his hero. Probably pitch himself off this building.

Before he could open his mouth, apology tight behind his tongue, a plume of _smoke_ erupted. Izuku flinched back hard, more pale-yellow triangles breaking like glass and reforming around him.

The smoke blew away fairly quickly with the winds from being this high up, playful windspren flying like dancing tassels in front of him. They giggled and took the smoke in mischievous fingers, waving it away.

Revealed was All Might—except no it wasn’t.

Except for how it was.

Izuku could only stare as the man’s deep voice began explaining. Another burst of shockspren sprung up around him before fading, the faintest bubble of purple fear in front of the toe of his shoe.

All Might asked him not to scream, and Izuku, to his credit, did not.

Little orange hands, almost like the sticky kind out of quarter machines if he _really_ wanted to kid himself, clung to All Might. Painspren.

When he sat down, weary from the transformation, brown plumes of strange-shaped dust shot into the air.

Exhaustionspren.

Izuku had once wanted to go to the hospital to see all the spren that manifested there, determined that he needed to know what injuries looked like, to help him be a better hero. Inko had hesitated and then, under the unflinching tide of his determination, agreed.

It had been horrible. Izuku had been convinced, for an entire day, that he never wanted to see it again. Seeing the pain and rot and exhaustion, and other spren that his mother pointed out or that he slowly developed names for on his own, and not being able to help—

It had cracked something inside Izuku. He’d wanted to cry.

The next day, he went back to the hospital. It had been summer break. He had been eight.

The first day he went armed with crayons and paper, drawing cards for the people who had lonespren pulling at them, a gray wet fog clinging to their legs in their hospital beds.

He brought joyspren to the children, laughterspren to the elderly. Every day brought more smiles, _purpose_ beating back those initial feelings of despair. The work was endless, but rewarding. He didn't have to just live with the things that hurt! He _could_ help!

He couldn’t, now.

Or rather, he wasn’t sure how, and before All Might even said anything more shamespren buds bloomed at his hands and fell to the concrete.

A single guiltspren appeared above him, a silver dripping raindrop sloughing off from an invisible stalactite.

 _He really shouldn't have done this_ , and yet.

All Might, skinny and deflated, lifts up his shirt, dislodging the painspren. They come back. Izuku wants to be sick, illspren appearing faintly like sickly green pawprints in front of him. They’re much darker and much greener if you’re truly ill; these ones, barely lime, appear only for his brief rush of nausea and then disappear.

“I was injured in a villain fight five years ago.” All Might said quietly, the severity of the injury speaking for itself. “I had to have half of my respiratory organs removed, and all of my stomach. The countless surgeries and aftereffects left me emaciated, worn.”

He wished he could _do_ something. It almost choked him. Helplessness sat in his gut like a stone, no spren accompanying.

Something else, too. Words itched in his mouth, too big for his tongue. He couldn’t name everything he felt, knowing his hero— _the_ hero—somehow continued to fight with this injury.

 _All of my stomach_ , Izuku thinks, and his head spins at the idea. Half his lungs and accompanying organs. Painspren, clinging even now to the area like a sickly orange quilt.

Anyone else would be on bed rest, certainly. Maybe with a half-internal pump constantly administering painkillers to area so he could speak and function. All Might couldn’t, and wouldn’t, wear something like that, though. It would reveal his weakness.

It would present a target.

Even the giggle of the windspren died down for this moment.

“Right now, I can only work as a hero for about three hours a day.” All Might confessed gravely, drawn and tired. Another exhaustionspren plumed up. His voice rumbled out, lower than his hero form, but rasping like boulders struggling down a high mountain.

“Three hours.” Izuku echoed, instinctively knowing that that was _the_ limit, and that All Might pushed the envelope every single day. “And… five years ago. Texas Chainsaw did this to you?”

But how?

“You’re well-informed.” All Might lowered his shirt with a grimace. Extra painspren bloomed into being and Izuku’s hands curled into fists. “But no. A different villain. This is a classified matter.”

Izuku nodded, head swimming. He wouldn’t pry.

It didn’t really matter _who_. Only that All Might had won.

And only the cost.

“Now that you’ve seen me like this, you mustn’t tell anyone. Don’t talk about it, not even online. Not even accidentally. This fight wasn’t made public, by my request.”

Struck-dumb, Izuku could only nod.

“It’s important that the Symbol of Peace be undefeated. I have to smile, to reassure every hero and the public… and to trick the fear inside me.”

Izuku took a half step back, the sharp sudden twinkle of broken glass; another shock-spren, shattering beside him. Just the single one, this time.

All Might, afraid? His initial reaction was disbelief.

He swallowed. If he could see spren in videos, would All Might have the shimmering ribbon of light some heroes got? Or would glory and liespren hover around his head?

No, Izuku shook his head. It was impossible.

All Might was _the_ hero. He fought, and fought, even with the deadly injury. He smiled despite his wounds so that no one would be afraid, not even other heroes. He put strength…

The thought whispered out, Izuku’s eyes caught on a windspren doing a twirl through the air. Her skirt coalesced for one moment, the next becoming once more an amorphous tendril.

“The question you asked me: 'what does a hero feel, when he’s saving people?' I can’t answer that, kid. There are hundreds of heroes and each one feels different things. For me, it’s always the worry that I’ll run out of time. The fear… that I won’t be good enough. I smile to trick that fear, you see. It doesn’t matter how afraid I am, or how little time I have left, if I can save someone with a smile.”

Those words hit like a punch to the gut. Izuku almost doubled over from the force of it.

_I want to be a hero, to save people with a smile!_

His dream, laid out in front of them both, laid bare onto the sunlit concrete of this rooftop.

“That’s me!” He blurted, the words almost pulled from him, almost drowned out by his pulse. “I want to be that hero.”

All Might smiled, a crooked line of a thing.

“Well, you’ve suddenly got the guts for it. What’s your quirk?”

Izuku frowned.

 _I’m sorry, Izuku. So sorry._ He flinched from the memory of his mother’s voice. Why was that coming up now?

He knew why.

The memory of Kacchan’s ruthless taunting surfaced—not hard, with the most recent example being so fresh. When was the last time his friend had looked at him with anything less than derision, contempt?

All because he was quirkless.

And now he was going to do something _really_ stupid, and he didn’t even realize it until the words were already out of his mouth.

“I have an empathy quirk.” He babbled, swallowing harshly. A moment of silence passed as he screamed internally. “I, uh. It’s really only good for strong emotions. But I’ve been working with it for as long as I can remember…”

“Hmm.” All Might stroked his chin. “And you want to be a hero with that?”

Mute, Izuku nodded.

His heart was beating so fast. He worried, briefly, what this day was doing to his blood pressure. He’d taken first aid courses at the hospital, CPR and field medicine classes. Enough to worry at how light headed he kept getting.

At least he hadn’t gone into shock.

“It’s… possible.” All Might admitted. “A very good friend of mine… has a mental quirk. You might be able to use it for search and rescue, if it’s specific enough.”

All Might shrugged one bony shoulder.

“I can’t say for sure, kid. I advise you to try for a hero school and see what they think. It might be possible that your best hope is to become a firefighter, or a disaster relief specialist. These careers have as much worth and value as being a professional hero.”

Woodenly, Izuku nodded.

He forced his mouth to move.

“I’ll try for the hero school.” He said, already knowing where. It had been his plan for as long as he could remember.

All Might stood, weary and broken. Izuku rushed over to help him and was mostly waved off.

“Don’t concern yourself with me, boy.” All Might said, as though that was even remotely possible. “I don’t have any time left, today, but I can make it back to my home. My condition is a secret, but people will know I’m in town soon enough. You can brag that you met me to all your friends.”

Izuku laughed. The spren that appeared was less zippy, almost listless. It faded before it could properly exist.

“Don’t worry about that. I don’t have anyone to tell.”

Oh, wait. That was a lie.

As All Might walked carefully to the door and opened it, Izuku stared at his hunched back. Try as he might, he couldn't name the feelings tight in his chest, too fast and interwoven to summon any distinct spren.

The door shut with a click that sounded far too loud.

As soon as it faded, Izuku began looking around.

“Rune?” He asked the open air. A windspren giggled.

For a moment he thought that his friend wouldn’t appear—that he, too, was lost—and thoughts of retracing his steps to that awful tunnel gripped his mind. He wouldn’t be taking _that_ route home again.

Just when he started to truly worry, his pocket wiggled.

The ordinary gemstone shifted into half-light, floating easily.

“Okay?” He asked Izuku, glow jumping in time with the words.

Izuku swallowed over the lump in his throat, reaching out to cup the semisolid light in both hands.

“Yeah,” He managed. He sighed. “I’m good. Were you in my pocket the whole time?”

“No. Here. Needed. Important.”

What?

"Why not fly?"

"No." 

“You fly all the time.” Like most spren, Rune wasn’t bound to the earth. He defied the laws of physics, disappeared and reappeared at will. Though, come to think of it, Rune stayed manifested almost all the time, now.

Was it because they were friends?

“Can’t.” Rune repeated. “Stuck. Stay. _Izuku_. Needed. Here. Izuku.”

Izuku laughed, surprised. A minnow did a quick circuit around his head, silver flashing.

“Thank you, then.” He held his hand up and the spren sat on his shoulder, little arm reaching out to steady himself at Izuku’s neck. He manifested small ruby feet just to swing them.

“Why?” Rune tilted his ruby head to the side, entire body the size of a soda can in this form.

Izuku smiled at him.

“Why? For always sticking by my side. You’re my best friend.”

Rune flickered, pleased.

Izuku brought a thumb up to pet him, admiring the way his friend caught the intense light on the rooftop. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, however--

A mighty explosion sounded in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is UP, I did some editing in-chapter as I uploaded, so this should be free of typos. I hope it lives up to the hype. When I keep posting what I've got written and don't update for three weeks or three months, y'all will know that it's because I have no self control and dumped everything I had. 
> 
> The pacing is the thing I struggle with the most, but these first four chapters I think turned out pretty good. Y'all'll get the other ones soon enough because I have zero self-control.
> 
> I love seeing comments, but I'm not really looking for any criticism! Please only tell me what you liked, if you're so inclined. I appreciate every single review. The attention this has gotten, so quickly, has really hit me hard. Y'all are great!


	4. This is the distinction that gives us strength as we fight today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izuku meets that which he refuses to live without.

> “ _They need to be better, old friend. We all do. The responsibility of what we've been given - whether it be the crown or the Nahel bond - needs to make us better._ ”
> 
> –Nohadon, in Dalinar's visions[[4]](https://stormlightarchive.fandom.com/wiki/Nahel_bond#cite_note-Rtwokc60-3)

Izuku is moving before he realizes what he’s doing.

“An explosion?” He asked, perking up excitedly. “I wonder what hero will…”

He stops.

Rune glows in question.

Izuku covers his face with his hands and lets out a short scream. White petals burst like starburst around his head, more embarrassment than shame. Each one like someone punched a flower and, cartoonlike, it exploded. _Puff_. 

“I just met All Might.” His head spins. “I opened my mouth and _lied_ to him about a quirk I don’t have.”

He felt the overwhelming need to put his head between his legs and hyperventilate for approximately four days.

With Rune tapping his shoulder with a little crystal hand, mostly confused, Izuku took several short breath. The sun warmed his shoulders.

Windspren whispered.

His hands fell and he nodded, mostly calm and centered again.

Izuku turned toward the rising plume of smoke.

For a moment, he really _was_ a hero. He ran to the scene, assessed the situation, and came up with the best way to take down the villain because he was _excellent_ at quirk analysis. He would put his body between the villain and the civilians. He’d rescue people from danger with a smile.

Conviction surged in him, so _sure_ it was right. So convinced.

It was such a clear image. He could almost taste the dust.

The vision popped like a soap bubble.

His dream lay massacred on the rooftop.

For a moment, angerspren bubbled along with him, and then sunk back into the concrete as he conquered that rage.

“It doesn’t change anything.” He told Rune, who looked concerned even without a proper face. “It _doesn’t_. I’m going to find out what heroes feel, and…”

The best heroes had ribbons of golden light around them, crowning them like mystic laurel leaves. Izuku would…

Emotion spren have nothing to do with quirks. Sure, firespren come to fires, and other elemental reactions, but the really awesome heroes have the unknown spren around them. Herospren, except that can’t possibly be right.

Spren existed well before heroes did.

But those heroes had nothing in common, not even their quirks. That meant it _must_ be an emotion spren. And if those spren came when heroes were especially heroic, when they felt something…

Then Izuku could feel it too.

Quirkless or not.

Until then, he’d focus on making himself _better_ , every way he could.

He inhaled sharply, nodding. Right.

Right.

The air was invigorating, got his blood pumping. Adrenaline came, a rush of enthusiasm. He re-shouldered his backpack more comfortably and took the stairs two at a time.

He didn’t pass All Might, and tried not to let that disappoint him.

Finding the explosion wasn’t especially difficult, though it should have been hard. It normally would have been. Humans aren't great in general about identifying which direction a noise is coming from, especially in a crowded city-- no matter how loud it is.

Luckily Izuku had seen from the air what direction it was in.

He zeroed in on that part of town and was rewarded with a few very obvious signs that he was correct.

As he got closer, people were running. He could see, immediately, that it was an uncontained situation. A _moving_ uncontained situation.

And as he weaved through the panicked throng—not _too_ panicked, and not quite a stampede, as people overall trusted heroes to keep them safe; there were quite a few people moving closer as he was, actually, smartphones in hand—

Another explosion sounded.

And then another.

“That’s odd,” He said to himself and Rune, nearly drowned out by the noise of the people, and heroes shouting for people to stay back. He reached the frontmost edge of the crowd, not nearly as thick as normal—of course it wasn’t, this was a _moving_ fight, the kind that could catch unaware people up in it as victims if they weren’t careful.

“It almost sounds like…”

Those explosions were painstakingly familiar. One explosion made sense in a fight, or even a couple, but no hero has an explosion _quirk_. He would know. He would definitely know. Although some heroes-- and more villains-- had quirks that could be _used_ to make an explosion. Even fire quirks don’t…

It sounded familiar because it was.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t process what he was seeing, at first.

If anything, Izuku understood _immediately_. Too fast, he saw what was happening and his brain made the lightning quick connections, coming to a conclusion that rooted him to the spot.

 _Now, solutions_! He thought furiously, almost overwhelmed by the flood of ideas.

Because Kacchan was being held up by a mass of inky biomass, a villain that Izuku had met earlier today. It moved like a _Muk_ pokemon, sliming around, but it was large—larger than it had any right to be, and how had it recovered so much biomass so quickly?

Yes, it must have escaped when he crashed into All Might, but that didn’t explain how two or three litres of villain expanded into tens of gallons within an hour’s span.

He shook himself. That wasn’t important.

He remembered how the villain had tried to _use_ him, a walking skinsuit, and even now it was trying to overwhelm Kacchan who had a defense Izuku didn’t: explosions.

Every time the slime pressed closer to his eyes, mouth or nose, Kacchan reached a hand through the tarlike molasses and detonated an explosion. It was getting harder and harder to move his arms, though. He had to be getting tired.

Every time the sludge tried to hold down his arms, encompass his palms so that he couldn’t light another one, Kacchan exploded it away. The strategy and timing for someone who _must_ be half-starved of oxygen and overwhelmed by panic…

As always, Kacchan was _amazing._

But he was fourteen, and not a hero _yet_ , and _overwhelmed_.

“We’ve got to do something!” Pro hero Death Arms yelled, frustrated. His quirk let him pick up heavy objects, like cars and fallen debris and entire telephone poles. He could probably lift parts of a _building_. In hand to hand combat he was a highly ranked expert.

But he wasn’t All Might, capable of generating blasts of wind with his strength. Nor was he fast, or able to use his legs for superhuman jumps.

His eyes jumped quickly to the nearby heroes, assessing.

Mt. Lady was nearby, and he dismissed her instantly. She could possibly step on the villain and disseminate his biomass the way All Might’s punches did, but not while Kacchan was inside. It wasn’t even an _option_. Plus she was severely limited by the urban environment.

Kamui woods had formed a barrier keeping part of the crowd back, while Backdraft—

Backdraft!

The pro was using his water to put out fires, but Izuku remembered the thought he’d had earlier—desperately rationalizing that if he jumped into some body of water, it would affect the villain’s consistency.

Adrenaline rushing, he opened his mouth--!

And closed it.

His heart sunk.

Backdraft was refraining from attacking the villain with water not because he might hurt Kacchan, but because--Izuku would bet anything-- it was how the sludge villain had gained so much mass back in the first place. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Mr. Woods!” He shouted, barely audible over the din of the crowd. “Mr. Woods, you can grab him out of the sludge! It’s malleable enough to—”

“None of our quirks are suitable!” Kamui Woods shouted back to Death Arms. “Damnit, we’ll have to wait for someone else!”

He didn’t sound excited about the prospect, but just the words stopped Izuku’s blood cold.

He was analytical. He spent _hours_ every day researching and plotting out different uses for different quirks, practicing hypothetical scenarios and reading declassified incident reports to see how other pros did it. He dissected their performance and read the suggested notes on how they could have done better. It should have scared him, how fast his whirring brain ruthlessly, coldly cut them out of his planning.

He didn't have time to be afraid, or to come up with anything else with these new parameters.

Twenty yards away Kacchan made a choked off noise, somehow amplified enough to reach Izuku. A wet and gurgling choking sound that made him forget all about the pros on the scene as black sludge inched across Kacchan’s face, slowly and horrifically pulling it into the biomasses’ wide, wide smile.

It opened Kacchan’s mouth like it was his own and _laughed_ , this time echoing all over the street. It’s shadow rose up like a second being, backlit against buildings by the smoke and fire.

Kacchan’s eyes were wide, helpless, struggling.

 _Help me_.

Izuku didn’t _hesitate_.

He ducked under the wooden barrier before anyone could say anything, not a ‘hey kid!’ or a ‘no, stop!’ Or hell, maybe they did. Izuku had eyes only for Kacchan.

He didn’t have any weapons at his disposal— _that_ would change immediately, part of his mind already racing ahead—so he swiveled his large bookbag around, tossing it at the only weakpoint—the villain’s eyes, still mercifully separate from Kacchan’s.

As soon as he saw black sludge overtake Kacchan’s mouth he knew he had to _act_ , knew from painful experience that it hadn’t become a game of ‘defeat the villain’ but ‘distract it so Kacchan can get a breath, he will _literally die of suffocation right in front of me_ if I don’t’.

There wasn’t any _time_.

“Oh fuck, you again.” The villain _hissed_ , seething as one of the sharp corners of his science textbook hit him in the eye.

He was dying right in front of them and they didn’t even care!

Spren were everywhere, unimportant. He couldn’t catalogue them in time; they weren’t tangible enough to affect things.

The distraction paid off, another explosion sounded, and Kacchan’s face pulled free of the sludge for precious seconds, bobbing like a drowning person. He gasped for air, frantic and afraid. Tears and snot marred his face.

Deku sucked in that first breath with him, too tense and worried himself to breathe, until this moment.

The fog of panic cleared from his face as he struggled, assessing the situation—so smart, so _painfully_ smart and resourceful!—immediately recognizing—

“ _Deku!_ What the fuck are you—” His eyes widened in renewed dismay as the sludge raced forward to take advantage of his open mouth. Izuku started in with clawed hands, not making much difference—but making _enough_.

His hands were shaking.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how if he did nothing, Izuku's oldest friend would _die_ right in front of him. Yes, at some point, the perfect hero for this situation would arrive. They would, _eventually_ , defeat the villain that had full use of Kacchan’s incredibly powerful quirk.

And then they’d pull Kacchan’s suffocated _corpse_ out of the sludge, hours too late to save him.

 _No_ , he thought, tears choking him. It felt like he was breathing smoke—he probably was. He took a deep breath, then another, and that felt better, his lungs felt clearer. His eyes still stung. _No, no, absolutely not!_

He couldn’t, he wouldn’t—

Every effort was enough, even if it was a doomed effort. He scooped enough sludge out that the villain started cursing him and Kacchan got an entire _shoulder_ loose, setting off an explosion right by their faces.

Izuku didn’t even wince. Finally, some reason to be thankful for their fraught childhood. The villain leapt back—was it weak to sound, light or fire? All three?

Izuku had _nothing_ but his hands, not even enough time to try to grab nearby things to help, he couldn’t use the environment—a flaming stick would be useful right now, could Kamui break off bits and pieces? He used them for branch prisons, so—

No _time_ , and they wouldn’t listen to him anyway--

“I don’t need your help!” Kacchan insisted, coughing, furiously.

Izuku couldn’t help but laugh. Of course that’s what he’d say, with Izuku being the literal _only_ thing stopping him from certain death. He really loved Kacchan’s _everything_.

“Why are you—fuck—” Kacchan coughed, another round of explosions, “Why are you _even here_?”

 _HOW_ , his tone said. And also, why is it _always you!?_

 _My legs moved on their own_ , he thought, but that was a cop-out. It had been a decision, easier than any he’d ever made. Staying out of it was impossible. Let Kacchan _die_? Sit still when he could help, however little? It was _anathema_.

Because he will always, always say the stupidest thing possible, Izuku’s mouth opened and the truth fell out:

“You looked like you needed help!” His voice carried, following the smoke and fire, a shout between the seconds of explosions.

“ _GoddamniURRKK_.”

The explosions pick up in speed and fury, which is a great side affect of literally everything Izuku does making Kacchan furious. The sludge villain is still there, amorphous and HUGE, fighting to take over his best friend’s body. Izuku is dwarfed by the size of him, starting to get desperate.

He inhaled sharply, ready to do something stupid—he didn’t know what.

It felt like the very concrete and road underfoot were vibrating with his determination, the absolute denial in his spirit _—_

 _I will NOT let_ —

**_“—SMASH!”_ **

All Might moved, the wind seemed to almost pull back with his fist--like the tsunami _taking_ the ocean before it hits,-- and then everything _crashed_ forward. The sludge disappeared.

Literally disappeared.

There was a moment of windspren, shocked and delighted and laughing—

And Kacchan fell into his arms.

Izuku didn’t even feel his weight, truly choked with relief. Laughter bubbled up, silver minnow spren dancing above his head in absolute jubilation. Joyspren rose around him, like blue leaves that started at his feet then moved up in a swirl before _flaring_ out above him, as if in a second blast of wind.

“I will _kill you_ ,” Kacchan managed, voice absolutely wrecked. The ground erupted into pools of blood, bubbling sinisterly. Kacchan moved halfheartedly for his throat but Izuku caught his hands before they could strangle him, laughing and trying not to cry.

He triumphed over the overwhelming urge to hug Kacchan-- to shove his face into his chest and sob-- but only just.

“You asshole.” He succeeded in saying, instead. He turned his face to All Might, who was breathing heavily. He wondered if anyone saw the blood at the corner of his mouth.

He knew nobody saw the painspren appearing at a horrific rate all over his body, reaching with sinewy hands like a creeping moss.

With his focus on the hero, he didn’t see the shamespren that fell as bloodred petals into the bubbling angerspren pools, the way Kacchan’s eyes squeezed shut and his throat bobbed.

The rain was a surprise. Rainspren rose like they were startled as well, little blue waxy towers reaching up out of the new water by inches.

The crowd was reacting, he was sure, but Izuku had eyes only for All Might’s stumble. The fist he nevertheless rose into the air.

Izuku saw absolutely nothing else but the tassels, shining golden around the number one hero. Bright and blinding, the ribbons stuck to his body, his fist and the ground around him.

Herospren.

(Or whatever they were really called.)

Ribbons of cheerful, unflinching golden light; more than he'd ever seen in one place before, even when multiple heroes were fighting.

Izuku let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and upon doing so, felt the adrenaline leave him. An exhaustionspren plumed between him and All Might, almost like an afterthought. He wondered if it was for him, Izuku or Kacchan.

All Might's shoulders trembled, once, then rose straight and strong.

Izuku became aware of the crowd screaming.

Kacchan’s trembled hands pushed him away.

Then everything was a flood of reporters, pros, and rescue services.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're catching up, fast, to what I have written, but hopefully I can write some more this weekend. And, don't worry, it's The Big Chapter.
> 
> As a hint, the summary will be "In which Izuku's fist meets Kacchan's face."


	5. Chapter 5

Izuku is not chastened by the heroes for his lack of a quirk.

He’s chastened for his recklessness while Kacchan is praised for his endurance and he thinks: yeah, fair enough.

What he doesn’t know is: there were parts of that rescue where Izuku _glowed_.

Kacchan catches up with him after they’re released. Well, really Kacchan should be at the _hospital_ , getting checked for _brain damage_ due to near suffocation and oxygen withdrawal but probably they were too busy being impressed by his quirk to…

Izuku didn’t know. How’d he escape the paramedics?

Still Kacchan puts hands on him and pushes him back, a hard shove at the shoulders.

Izuku takes a swing at his face and it’s _cathartic_. The sharp rapport of connection ricochets around them, loud like a gunshot.

It’s every swallowed retort, it’s all the clenched fists and patience he’s had over the last few years, it’s every _Deku_ that has left Kacchan’s mouth.

Kacchan is still without energy from the near suffocation and resultant energy crash. Izuku has no idea how his friend hasn’t gone into shock. He likely didn’t have the energy to move out of the way.

Shockspren shatter and reconnect, pale yellow next to his dandelion hair.

Izuku would feel bad if he could see through the blind fury.

“Don’t look down on you!?” Izuku aimed another punch, this one barely dodged. He’d officially hit his breaking point. “I didn’t help you? You arrogant son of a bitch! You were going to _die_.”

“I had it handled!” Kacchan’s lip curls.

“Don’t bullshit me, you giant dick. That same villain attacked me earlier today, I know—” He broke off with a resigned sigh.

“He _what_!? YOU? How’d you fight him off, huh? Cuz you’re _quirkless_ , in case you hadn’t fucking noticed—”

“What, really!?” Izuku makes a huge show of looking at his spread hands. “You should have said! It’s been so many years! How could I not have realized?”

Kacchan swings a punch at him that Izuku ducks.

“All Might saved me!” He yelled, right in Kacchan’s face. The second punch stopped an inch away from his eye. On his shoulder, Rune glowed with energy.

“He saved me, but before that I was going to _asphyxiate to death_ , and you were too! I barely held it off, but I at least did _something_. I think you’re amazing for managing to fight it for so long.” That sludge…

Izuku shuddered all over. He still hadn’t gotten his bath. Slowly they go from screaming to deadly serious.

“Tch. Who cares if _you_ think I’m amazing? You’re just some quirkless—”

Izuku grabbed him by the collar; threatening puffs erupted from his hands, far off from the true and desperate explosions of earlier. He had definitely overtaxed his quirk factor.

“Call me quirkless one more time.”

Kacchan sneered, “ _Quirkless_.”

Both his wrists grabbed Izuku’s.

Izuku looked at him and sighed.

“Yeah okay, I don’t know what I expected.” He allowed. “But if I had _killed myself_ like you told me to this morning, you’d be dead.”

Kacchan _flinched_ back hard.

Shamespren fell from him like sakura petals in red.

“Oh.” Izuku said, blinking.

“You still can’t be a hero.” Kacchan said, quiet. He cut his eyes to the side, realized the cowardice, and then met Izuku’s eyes like a dare.

Izuku didn’t look away, chin high.

“I’m going to be the best hero this world has _ever_ seen.” Izuku countered, something like fury but not rolling hot in his gut. “I’m going to, to—”

Words rose up in him, almost out of nowhere but not. His spren leaned forward, eager. It felt like the universe was holding its breath.

“ _What_ are you going to do?” Kacchan challenged, and neither of them could know All Might was small and skinny and watching from the corner, intrigued but also reluctant to interrupt. He grabbed Izuku by the shoulders, pulled, and shoved him against the fence closest.

Izuku let him, caught up in something—else. His body was limp. He looked at Kacchan, then around at the area they were in, the smoke still rising half a block away.

He saw All Might, even as the man tried to duck behind the corner.

It felt like now or never. It felt like if he didn’t say it, he’d explode. It felt like he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life.

“Well?” Kacchan shook him. “What could YOU _possibly_ do?”

Izuku snapped a hand up and held onto Kacchan’s wrist, a mirror to how they were moments ago, Izuku all brave and reactive.

He summoned that bravery now.

 _These are the most important words a man can say_.

Kacchan’s red eyes looked at him, wide with stress and adrenaline and mouth tight with demand.

“I can put life before death.” Izuku said simply. It was almost like his whole world wasn’t turning upside down. He squeezed Kacchan’s wrist. “I can put strength before weakness. It… it doesn’t _matter_ what kind of hero I’ll be in the future. It matters what I do _now_. I will put journey before destination.”

White light _shattered_.

A single ribbon of sunlight fluttered, briefly, above him.

Izuku didn’t see it. Izuku couldn’t see anything but _light_.

His eyes glowed with it.

“Izuku.” Rune said, and it was like his voice was coming from everywhere. “First Ideal. Sworn. _Radiant_. I’m… wardspren.”

Through Rune, through their sudden and bright _connection_ , Izuku could see a plain that went on for miles and miles. Above it, a storm raged. It was light and destruction, wind and rain. A face broke out in the clouds, as large as one horizon to the other, and looked at him.

_YOUR OATH IS ACCEPTED. BE WORTHY OF IT._

A blue-tinted light, like glowing smoke that didn’t burn, flowed around him. He was flying. Why was he flying? He shouldn’t be flying, or falling.

The…

The ground should _always_ be strong under his feet.

The wind whipping around him kept up, a force like nothing he’d ever known, but he breathed in the stormlight and somehow, the air under his feet solidified.

He met the face in the sky with determination writ into his _bones_.

 _“Izuku is… worthy_.” Said Rune, a tiny wisp of half-gem light standing against a god. “He is… mine. Stoneward. Perfect.”

He’d never heard his friend speak in sentences. For a long time, it was only charades between them, youthful and fun to make sense of. Then, more recently, _words_.

Pride welled up in him for the spren.

It occurred to him, finally, that this giant face in the sky was probably a spren as well. A powerful spren, but a spren nonetheless. The spren god, maybe?

The sheer pressure of the storm was overwhelming. This presence was nothing he could put into words.

_VERY WELL._

The voice was louder than thunder, reverberating through his ribs.

_DO NOT FAIL US, STONEWARD. HONOR YOUR OATHS._

With a gasp, his head thunked back, hitting a wooden fence, and the word was normal around him.

Kacchan’s hands fell from his collar like he’d been burned.

Izuku felt the stormlight in him; it was… startlingly familiar. It was every bracing breath he’d taken today. Somehow…

“It’s you, right?” He muttered to Rune. “We’ve got… a bond. Through you I can touch the stormlight.”

“Bond.” Rune agreed, radiating satisfaction. If spren could pop up for other spren, he would be surrounded by golden orbs of victory.

“What the fuck?” Kacchan demanded. “I thought—I _know_ —you’re quirkless!”

He said it like he wanted to shake Izuku but didn’t want to touch him again. Frustration pooled in his voice, so overt a spren actually sprung up from it. A starburst of orange lines, arranged in a circle, like an undersea flower.

Izuku had never seen it before. _Frustrationspren_.

Well. He’d never seen a godspren before today, either.

All Might inhaled, flexing until his body grew around him. It was bittersweet, this form. It hurt because he was past his limit.

“Yes, young Midoriya.” He crowed. This was not how he wanted to have this conversation. “What _is_ this about you being quirkless?”

“All Might!” Izuku yelled, despite having already seen the man. He swallowed. White light flowed out of him as he spoke, strength leaving him. His muscles shook. “I…”

His eyes flicked to Kacchan, now limp with shock.

“Do you trust this young man, young Midoriya? Trust him with your life and my life as well?” It was hard to breathe. Blood welled up in the back of his throat, a familiar pain. He swallowed it.

Young Midoriya leveled his chin. His eyes still glowed with mysterious power, though it was fading.

“Yes,” He answered, voice steady. “He’s brash, and loud, and sometimes _cruel_. But Kacchan is going to make an amazing hero.”

That wasn’t the question, though.

“Yes.” Young Midoriya repeated, quieter. “I trust him with your secret.”

All Might breathed out, letting his body do as it was _begging_.

When the smoke cleared, Toshinori Yagi stood on the simple sidewalk.

“ _Alright, what the fuck_?”

“Excuse him, All Might.” Young Midoriya sighed. “He’s just like this. You know. As a person.”

“Deku!”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me at definitelynotaminion.tumblr.com


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